


Excuses, Excuses

by Annie D (scaramouche)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Holding Hands, Humor, M/M, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2012-08-10
Packaged: 2017-11-11 19:51:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaramouche/pseuds/Annie%20D
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam watches Dean and Cas hold hands. And maybe trolls them a little bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Excuses, Excuses

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt from saltfree that asked for a "handholding ficlet".

“It’s a curse,” Dean says.

No one can deny that Sam’s had his moments of fail in the past, but right now, in _this_ moment, he is an excellent brother and totally does not laugh in Dean’s face. Instead he just replies, “That’s terrible.”

Cas nods solemnly. “Thank you, Sam. We’ll push through it somehow.”

“Well, just let me know if you need anything.” Sam ducks his head, because if he has to watch one more second of Dean stoically putting up with what his life has come to, Sam’s going to lose it. Better to focus on lunch instead: cherry tomatoes and iceberg lettuce and that little bit of grilled chicken that’s just right that he might come back here again if they don’t wrap up the case by tonight.

All of this is way more interesting than the fact that Dean and Cas are holding hands opposite him in the booth. Just: holding hands, as in Dean’s hand and Cas’ hand are interlocked, fingers and everything, not that Dean’s making any comment about having to eat a meal with one hand.

They’re still holding hands when they leave the diner. And when all of them drop by the K-mart to pick up more salt and nails. And when they head back to the motel afterward.

For most of it Dean makes the pretense of dragging Cas around, but Cas has bigger steps that you’d think, echoing Dean easily like a tug boat content to follow its path. It's just, you know – _hands_.

Later, when Sam’s self-control finally – and perhaps inevitably – breaks, he asks, “So who’s the one who’s cursed?”

Dean and Cas look up from where they’re watching TV. Their hands are still… _well_ , if a full grip is the equivalent of standing at attention, then this is parade rest. Dean’s got Cas’ hand in a loose, uneven hold, some fingers intertwined while others are rest easy in a half-made jigsaw puzzle.

“Cas,” Dean says, just as Cas opens his mouth and has to close it again. Dean thinks he’s being subtle when he shoots a warning look at Cas. “Freaky angel curse. You know how it is.”

“Okay then.” Sam steps forward, big smile out, and offers his own hand. “I’ll take over. You must need a break.”

It’s an understatement to say that Dean’s responding facial expression is hilarious. It’s like watching a car crash play out on someone’s face, conflicting responses battling for supremacy as he figures out how and what to respond with.

Cas, because he has been hanging out with Dean too much, chimes in with, “All right.”

“All right?” Finally, a reaction from Dean. A shrill one, but still a reaction. Sam presses his lips together and hopes he doesn’t look too much like an asshole who’s enjoying this while Dean sputters, “What the fuck do you mean _all right_?”

“It is a curse.” Cas may have a poker face on, but the light in his eyes gives everything away. “And since I am cursed—”

“Shut up.” Dean carefully manoeuvres his hand – the one still attached to Cas’ – over on to his stomach. His plan is apparently to drop anchor there, because he brings his other hand round so that both of them have Cas’ hand trapped, and thus preventing all chance of escape. “I’m missing the show, dammit,” Dean grumbles. “What the hell happened?”

Sam does his best not to notice how Cas is practically glowing like a small sun.

Not too long after, once Cas has gone off to do whatever else he does and it’s just two of them again, Dean spins on Sam for no reason whatsoever and snaps, “Just shut up, okay?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Sam replies. Dean hates it when Sam sounds so reasonable, which is probably how he got that tone polished to perfection. “Look at me, not saying anything at all. What are we not talking about?”

“Look.” Dean runs a nervous hand through his hair. “You don’t even get it. You don’t even – I’m just being nice, okay, the guy did - Cas was – I got him to do the freaking reverse pile driver on me. Cas! Who could barely even figure out how to – never mind.”

“So he made your dreams come true, basically.” Sam nods. “Got it.”

“And all he wanted in return was to hold hands!” Dean exclaims. “That’s all! Out of everything I offered – and believe you me, that’s a huge list – all he wants is just… He only wanted…”

“That’s Cas for you.” Sam ignores Dean’s pitiful glower and pats him on the arm. “Truth be told, though, you’d go through that ‘huge list’ with him anyway.”

“That’s true.” Dean shoves at Sam weakly. “Now stop talking about it.”

Sam does.

Even when Cas comes back the next day and is apparently adamant on keeping hand-holding on the agenda. (Not that Dean’s fighting it all that hard, to no one’s surprise.)

And because Sam’s smart, he does not google what a reverse pile driver is.


End file.
